Shall we dance?
by LethalIngenuity
Summary: In order to save his brother, Matthew takes on the identity of "America". But when Matthew needs to be saved, how will Alfred be able to be the hero if he can't even remember who he is?
1. Toeing the Boundary

**ahlafkjlksjflkaj I was inspired by the song, "World's end dance" But the story is supremely based on that song. Okay I lied. It's nothing like the song at all, but bear with me**. **What a prologue. Potential UsUK PrusCan in the future. maybe. maybe not. human names and country names used. If the countries are close with each other, they use human names.**

**STORY BEGIN.**

* * *

Violet eyes look forlornly over the figure that lay before him. The blond was propped up against the wall, his head slightly lolling to the side. His glasses were askew, and the hair that was once short had now grown to the length of his shoulders. The figured murmured something about burgers, which made Matthew smile, just slightly. He then focused his attention to his brother's legs, which were riddled with bullets. Nations couldn't die, but it wasn't like they couldn't feel physical pain. Alfred's injuries would heal, but he needed Alfred to move _now_. Matthew began working on slowly removing Alfred's bomber jacket, careful not to agitate any of his wounds. Matthew accidently brushed his hand against Alfred's leg, which caused the nation to stir.

"Mmmphh..."

Blue groggy eyes slowly open and begin to scan the area. Matthew turns to look at the monitors and sees multiple soldiers heading down towards the control room.

Matthew turns his attention back towards his brother, and kneels down so that they're facing eye to eye. "Do you know who you are?" He asks, as he starts taking off his tan winter coat. Alfred shakes his head, but for some odd reason, this makes Matthew sadly smile. Alfred begins to ask Matthew who he was but Matthew thrusts his winter coat into Alfred's arms before the question could come out of his mouth. "Put it on quickly. We don't have much time". Alfred hastily puts on the coat and looks back to see Matthew cutting his hair short with a knife.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asks, his voice slightly slurred. Matthew had withdrawn the two pistols that were hanging from his holsters, and was loading both of them with ammo.

"I'm going to go out there and distract the soldiers coming this way."

Alfred tries to stand, but finds himself unable to hold himself up. Matthew quickly catches him before he falls, and gently rests him against the wall.  
"Don't move." Matthew says.

"You've got a concusion and you were shot a few times in the leg. You won't be able to walk for a while."

"Carry me then."

"Are you stupid? There's a whole army of soldiers heading here and you want me to _carry_ you out?"

"I'll shoot them while you carry me."

Matthew could hear the thundering sound of boots coming from the floor above, and began to frantically search the room for more guns, ignoring Alfred's ideas of how they could escape together, especially the ones involving Matthew cross dressing and flashing the passing by soldiers. Even though the nation was suffering from amnesia, Alfred still managed to retain his extremely idiotic ideas.

"Wait here until England comes."

"Who's England?"

Matthew had to be quick in explanations. It sounded as if the soldiers were right down the hall.

"Eyebrows." Is the only thing he seems to come up with.

"Who am I?" Alfred asks. Matthew kneels down, and smiles at the irony of the question. He places his hands upon Alfred's shoulders, and whispers into his ear.

Matthew then rapidly stands up, and briskly walks toward the door. In his mind, he counts to three, and wrenches the door open, dashes through, and slams it shut. He hears a high pitched whizzing sound, and feels a hot burning sensation on his left cheek.

"It's just one man!" He hears one soldier shout. He looks to his left to see four soldiers coming at him. Matthew smiles, and does the most unexpected thing. With a tremendous battle cry, he sprints straight towards the soldiers, guns ablazing. The soldiers are temporarily stunned, and Matthew doesn't give them the time to recover. He promptly shoots each of them in the chest. But he doesn't stop. Still continuing to scream and sprint, he ran down the hallway, trying to attract as much attention away from the room where Alfred was. He spotted a cluster of soldiers on the corridor to his right.

"He's too far! There's no way he can take us out! Fire!" A brash soldier cries. Matthew grins and fires. With each shot, someone's head blew off. They obviously have never heard of how Matthew _never_ misses.

Matthew quickly slips away into the corridor and waits as a troop of soldiers run past him. He chuckles to himself. Sometimes the power of invisibilty was such a blessing. He turns and rams himself against a wall that he was sure wasn't there before. He temporarily lay on the ground in a daze, until rough hands drag him and push him against the wall. Matthew finds that his face is just centimetres away from a red eyed albino. He also finds that his guns are empty.

"Who are you?"

Prussia asks.

Matthew smiles mischieviously.

"I'm the hero"

* * *

Judging from the commotion and the shouting, Arthur figured that Alfred had already escaped, and didn't require his help, and had yet again called Arthur out on either a whim or a booty call. Just for safe measure, Arthur checked the designated area. When Arthur opened the door, to his surprise he found a very familiar blonde sitting against the wall. He then noticed all of his wounds and he immediately dropped to his knees, and pulled out his sewing kit.

"Alfred - bloody hell, what happened to you?"

"You're... England?"

Arthur paused to look at the other nation, trying to hide the shock on his face. Alfred surely would have been able to recognize him. He then noticed that this nation had the face of Alfred, but his hair was much longer than Alfred's. Alfred also always wore a bomber jacket. This blond had on some sort of parka. Arthur cupped the other nations chin, and examined his eyes. They were definitely Alfred's blue eyes, but there was no recognition in them.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked.

"I'm Canada"

* * *

**A/N  
**  
**If you don't get it, America thinks he's Canada and Canada is pretending to be America. I imagine Matthew to be a badass and similar to Alfred but only when no one is looking. I'm trying to fix this problem with all this bolding because it hurts my eyes and my eyes dont like being hurt.**


	2. Pain and Punchline

**I have a problem with writing long chapters. I lose focus and I just zone out and stare at my little note book. Sorry if the characters aren't acting the way they are supposed to. I don't know what the word it is for that. **

**And I'm bad at making jokes. They sound good in my mind but when they come out they sound horrible.**

**STORY, COME HITHER.**

* * *

_There are two Alfreds standing in the conference room. One with violet eyes and another with black hair. But there's something wrong about the one with violet eyes. There's no indication that the he's a nation, everything about him screams that he's a human. And yet, he holds himself up with the pride of a nation. There appear to be multiple figures surrounding the two Alfreds, but it's too blurry to make out who they are. The figures all raise up their guns. aiming at the black haired Alfred. The violet eyed Alfred shouts something, and tackles the black haired Alfred off the roof. They're both falling now. The black haired Alfred reaches out and grabs the violet eyed Alfred and pulls him into a tight embrace, as the two of them plummet to the ground._

Arthur awoke with a gasp, and sat up straight, pulling the covers of the blanket closer to him. He had been having the same recurring dream ever since he had rescued Canada. Only the dream usually ended when the guns were pointed at Alfred. This time the dream continued and showed them falling, falling towards their deaths. He leaned over to the night stand and picked up the phone, dialing the number written on his hand.

"Helloooo?" chirped the voice on the other end.

"Hello, Canada". Arthur said, his throat feeling very dry.

"Yo! What's up England?"

Arthur cringed at the formal name being used. Ever since that abnormal call from Alfred, his world was flipped upside down. For whatever reason, Alfred was in one of Russia's mansions situated in Latvia. Alfred had called Arthur asking for him to come pick him and Canada up, and exclaimed that it was too risky to explain the details on the phone. When Arthur arrived, the place was in total chaos. Soldiers were running about everywhere, and he could have even sworn that he had seen Sweden, Iceland, and Norway at some point. And when he arrived at the requested meeting point, all he found was Canada - no Alfred in sight. A few days later, when Arthur returned to the mansion, he had found it completely empty. No trace of anyone - or Alfred. To make matters worse, this amnesiac Canada acted just like Alfred. Arthur could have sworn on his grave that it was Alfred, but it wouldn't have been the first time he had mistaken Canada for America. This new Canada was just taunting him.

"It's nothing. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Of course you did, England. Man, you're such a creeper."

"Shut up you git. Anyway, is there any chance that you'll be able to come over soon?"

"England, just give it up. Your magic sucks, and it won't bring back my memory, so we should just do as Japan says and wait until it returns."

"Hey! My magic-"

"But I'll come over anyways, because that's how loyal your little ex colony is. Don't worry, we'll get Alfred back. I'm the hero after all. Now let me sleep, it's fucking 4am in the morning here, and as pleasant as it was to have your voice be the first thing I hear when I wake up, I still have a terrible headache. Bye!"

Arthur barely had time to say good bye before the other nation hung up. He sighed. He knew Canada's memory loss was temporary and that it would come back eventually, but he needed it back now. His spells so far weren't as helpful as he had hoped - memory and mind things were more of Norway's specialty, but no one could contact any of the Nordics at the moment. He hadn't known much of Canada's past, so he told Canada about Alfred's past, since their history was just slightly intertwined. Perhaps this is what caused Canada to act so much like America. Or maybe Canada always acted this way, and Arthur had never noticed. Arthur got out of bed and went straight down to his study. He knew that Alfred was in grave danger, and that Canada's missing memory was a key part to saving Alfred. It was time to search up some more spells.

* * *

"Hey there, _Hero"_

Matthew opened his eyes to find two red eyes staring straight back at him. He quickly thrust an arm up to the albino's neck. Gilbert clawed at the hand suffocating him.

"Mattie ... it's... just... me..." he garbled.

"Oh my god Gil, sorry. Shit, don't scare me like that".

Matthew released his grip on Gilbert's neck. The ex nation doubled over on Matthew's bed, gasping for air.

Matthew sat up, the blankets slightly sliding off of him revealing a full bandaged torso. He grimaced, and traced the scar on his left cheek. It wasn't healing. It should have healed by now. _Crisse._ He thought. Gilbert was unwrapping Matthew's bloody bandages, not giving him the chance to protest. When the bandages came off, Matthew saw that there were no cuts on his body, but it looked as if he was bleeding internally.

"It's so weird. It's been a week but your wounds haven't healed yet."

Gilbert exclaimed, as he finished applying the new bandages.

"What? _Crisse_, a week? Where are we? Fuck I have to-"

Matthew jumped out of bed, and then climbed back in as fast as he jumped out. Gilbert was grinning stupidly from ear to ear.

"Gil..."

"Yes?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"They were bloody and shit, so I decided to wash them. You're wearing my awesome boxers right now, which will not only look sexy, but enhance your awesomeness down there. Which, by the way, are pretty awesome, if I do say so myself." He wiggled his eyebrows and barely managed to dodge the pillow thrown at him. Matthew had turned a colour equivalent to his flag.

"It took you a week to wash them?"

"Nah. Only a week for the awesome me to haul your _hero_ ass from Latvia to Germany."

"Please stop calling me that."

"What? A hero? That's what you told me you were when I found you there. That's what you told _Russia._ If you liked role playing as America, you should have told me. I would gladly be your England."

Blushing and frustrated, Matthew shoved a laughing Gilbert off his bed.

"_Blimey, Alfred. Didn't your mum teach you to not shove your elders off your bed? You've been a naughty colony, so I think it's time for this empire to give you a spanking."_

Matthew facepalmed.

"Gah! Forget it then. Just tell me what you were doing in Russia's mansion."

Eager to explain his awesomeness, Gilbert forgot all about his british accent.

"Well you see, Russia insisted on inviting Ludwig and the Italy brothers for a private meeting. They figured on leaving behind Feliciano since he would only pull off his pants and distract everyone - not saying that Romano's any better, but go figure. So West refuses to let the awesome me come with him, but it's not like I _wanted_ to go with him anyways. So I wait and wait and wait for like a month or something, but neither West or Romano came back. Obviously that Russian bastard was up to no good, so it was up to the awesome me to rescue everyone."

Gilbert was talking so fast that Matthew had to remind him to breathe.

"Thanks Birdie. Okay, back to my awesome story. I hacked into West's computer and I found an email with an address from Russia. I ran all the way to Latvia -"

"Wait, you _ran_ to Latvia from Germany?"

"Don't question my awesomeness. So I'm at Russia's mansion and I managed to get past the guards with my awesome sex appeal. And then I hear these guys shouting, "The Nordics are here! And I'm all _What the fuck_ and I ran towards the sound of bullets and that's when I saw you. I really wasn't sure it was you though, because honestly, _what the fuck were you doing there?"_

Matthew looked at the bomber jacket that hung on the chair in the corner.

"I'll tell you later. What about how we got out of there? As I recall, the last thing I remember seeing was Russia."

Gilbert grinned, happy to tell more of his awesomeness.

"Well, I was pretty awesome, but you were awesome too. Russia had smacked me in the head with that damn faucet pipe and I blacked out for a bit. When my vision came back, I saw you twisting Russia's arm making him drop his pipe. Then you said something like, _I'm the hero, and __I'll show you the fuckin' power of the U.S of the EH. _and you grabbed the pipe and beat the shit out of him. I'll admit, it was a damn turn on. I thought you had it under control until the bastard threw some sort of blue shit at your face and you fell on the floor and stopped moving and he started beating you with his pipe, screaming something about how America's going to go down. And before he knew it, I had busted his knee caps and I just grabbed you and dove out the window."

_That explains the bruises_. Matthew thought to himself as he subconsciously wrapped his arms around himself.

"So I jump out of the window, and guess who I land on? Fucking Matthias! We were just sitting there for a second staring at each other until that Russian bastard started shooting at us. Matthias told me to follow him, so I awesomely carried you bridal style all the way and we got into this helicopter where all the other Nordics were, and Finland was just there in Sweden's arms bleeding like shit. And we take off and none of them are telling me shit, and it's all quiet so they just tell me that they can only take me to Denmark, so I had to walk the rest of the fucking way to Germany. And that's how the awesome me rescued the damsel in distress."

Gilbert posed, earning a laugh from Matthew. Then Matthew's face suddenly darkened.

"Wait. You never found Germany."

Gilbert was silent. His head drooped.

"Oh fuck Gil. If I wasn't there, you would have found your brother. And I'm sure that Russia isn't stupid enough to stay in the same place. I'm so sorry."

Gilbert patted Matthew on the head.

"It's alright birdie. The awesome me will just have to search all of Europe. It's not that big anyways. It's only like, a continent."

Gilbert winked at Matthew.

"Then I'll help you."

Gilbert, the man who was too proud to accept help from anyone, quickly embraced Matthew.

"You've already shown me some of your awesomeness. With you and me working as a team, we can probably even take over all of Europe if we wanted to."

"Damn straight."

Gilbert stepped back, and looked at Matthew for a few seconds. His blond hair was a mess, and his violet eyes were tinged with red and filled with conviction. He was battered and bruised, but there was some sort of aura radiating off of him. Determination? Foolishness? Who knew. People thought America was strong, but they've never seen Matthew when he was serious. They never saw the Matthew at Vimy ridge. Fuck, they never saw Matthew at all. Matthew was probably even stronger than America, but just hid it behind his usual shy timid behaviour. His real self came out only when no one was looking. It was a shame.

"Mattie, I'm going to make an awesome breakfast for us."

"Alright, thanks."

Matthew waited a few moments after Gilbert left before reaching out towards the bomber jacket. If that blue liquid Russia threw at him was what he thought it was, he was lucky that Gilbert stepped in on time. Luckily, the effects were wearing off. Matthew could already feel his internal organs mend themselves. He slipped his hand into the pocket of Alfred's jacket, and pulled out a thick brown envelope. He dumped the contents of the envelope on to his bed. All of them had produced various graphs and numbers. One of them distinctly stood out. It was labeled, "Project Amerika". Matthew briefly read over it and gasped. Just as Matthew had thought, Alfred was in serious danger.

_Stay safe_. He thought, as he felt his stomach churn. _Don't remember anything. Not until this is all over._

Matthew then shoved all of the papers back into the envelope, and proceeded to get dressed. He followed the extremely odd smell, and found Gilbert cooking what looked like some sort of mix between wursts, beer, maple syrup, and pancakes.

"Gilbert. I think I know where your brother might be."

* * *

**A/N**

**Why are the scenes with Arthur and Alfred so short? :'( **

**U.S of the eh is a book. Matthew is making a joke about it, and it kind of reveals that he's Canada, but Russia doesn't know that. Oh and Canada and Prussia are good friends because Matthew has fucking awesome maple syrup and that's what they bonded over and ever since then they were like bffls.  
**  
**Would anyone like to guess what actually is going on? I have a feeling that I'm making this too vague. But I don't want to reveal all of the secrets just yet. **

**lol wdf everyone's running into the nordics. why are the nordics everywhere.**


	3. Every good things gone

**heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey another chapter.  
Norway = Lukas  
Iceland = Emil.**

i changed denmark back to matthias because there seems to be some mutual understanding between the fanfic community that that is his name. alksjflkjasf 

**also there's some more foreshadowing.**

**sorry I took the first names I saw off the hetalia shout wiki :(**

**And yeah, sorry if it's confusing with the whole Alfred thing. I don't want to label him as Canada or Matthew, because that would be even more confusing.**

**And I also apologize because I don't know how sweden talks.  
**  
**I SUMMON THE NEXT CHAPTER.  
**

* * *

"Arthur, you do realize that it is three in the morning, and usually at this time, the majority of Europe is asleep?"

Francis turned down the brightness of his phone and rubbed his eyes. He was having a very pleasant dream where he was able to strip a certain forever frenemy nation. Ironically, said nation decided to call him and interrupt his dream, as if telling Francis, "Not even in your dreams."

"Yes, you git, I know that. Normally you would be the last person I would ever call, but I'm here at Matthew's with Alfred."

"You're in Canada? With both Alfred and Mathieu? Why wasn't I invited?"

"I'm not here with Matthew, I'm here with Alfred."

Francis rolled over to his left side and propped up his head with his hand.

"But mon cher, you just said you were _at_ Mathieu's house. How can you be at his house if he's not there?"

"That's what I wanted to call you about it. There's this… dilemma."

"Arthur, I believe it is time that you solve your sexual tensions yourself. Do not get me wrong, I do love helping you, but you must learn to grow up." Francis chuckled. He could already imagine that Arthur was steaming on the other side of the phone.

"Sexual tensions? What – No! That's not what this is about. It's America. He thinks he's Canada."

Francis rolled his eyes.

"He probably _is_ Canada. Do you know how many times you've mistaken poor Mathieu for Alfred?"

"I know, I know, I've heard. But this is different. He doesn't just look like Alfred, he acts like it too. No one can be this extremely annoying but him. He has the same hair, same eyes, same horrible manners, and the same love of hamburgers." Arthur sighed. "The only difference is he calls himself Canada."

"Maybe Mathieu is secretly lusting over you, and believes that the only way to your heart is to be what you love the most."

"… You git. You read too many fanfictions."

"You are wrong, Arthur. I do not read fanfictions, I _write_ them. "

Arthur continued to talk, ignoring Francis' statement.

"The lad ferociously argues that he's Canada. And sometimes I think I'm wrong. Maybe he is Canada. He gets so overly defensive whenever I call him America too. If only the dolt didn't have amnesia he-"

"Mathieu has amnesia?"

"Yes. He can't remember who he is. I received a call a few weeks back from America, asking to be picked up from some remote place in Latvia. When I arrived, I had thought it was Alfred, but there was something different about him. He didn't recognize me, and his hair was longer. He also wasn't wearing his bomber jacket."

"Then it is obviously Mathieu. If he can't remember who he was, he may be acting on from the memories of his brother."

"I'm sure it's Alfred."

"Non, mon ami. You _want_ it to be Alfred. If it wasn't, that would mean that Alfred's out there, in danger."

"He's Alfred."

"He is mon petit. My little angel."

"I never knew you thought of Alfred that way."

"Arthur, he says he is Canada. Believe him."

"Bloody hell Francis, I'm not like you. I remember my ex colonies through and through. I don't just sleep with them and then throw them out like a used rubber."

Francis was fully awake now. He sat up on his bed, feeling the anger well up inside him.

"If I recall, you were the one who stole Mathieu away from me."

"And it's a favour that he would never forget."

"Mathieu was miserable with you. He would never consider you as a father, like the way he considers me."

"Yet he comes running to me every time you show up with your gropey little hands. Shows what kind of father _you _are."

Francis clenched his hand into a fist. "What kind of father I am?" his voice was rising by the decibel. "Mon ami, I am not the one who forgets Matthieu's name all the time. I have never once mistaken him for America. I am not the one who turned their back on him and left him to mourn by himself in a cemetery full of poppies! You went straight back to Europe! If only I had known, I would have been there with him."

"But you decided to fight _against_ him in the American Revolution."

"Do not make me the villain. It is because of you that Canada is such a conflicting country. He pleads for your attention, and yet you look south. He has your _Queen_ on his currency! All you have ever done is use him to fight, and because he fought under your shadow. You took his accomplishments as your own, and you only acknowledge Alfred's."

"Everything you said is total bollocks. You're a hypocrite."

"At least I can actually _see_ Mathieu. I do not know about you, but I _care_ about Mathieu. If Mathieu was ever in trouble, I would gladly change places with him so he does not get hurt. Do not patronize me when you can not even distinguish Mathieu from Alfred. Au revoir, _L'angletere"._

Francis hung up before Arthur would have the chance to retort. He knew he was being extremely hypocritical. Yes, he could tell the two America brothers apart, but he had to admit. Lately, he hasn't spent much time with Mathieu. A few seconds later, his phone range again.

"L'angleterre." He said, his voice a low growl.

"Whoa! Hey amigo! It's me, Antonio!"

"Desole, mon cher! I just had a very displeasing argument with Rosbif. Please forgive me."

"No problem! All is forgiven. I dislike that pirate as well."

Antonio let out a cheery laugh, and Francis couldn't help but chuckle. Antonio's laugh was infectious.

"So how is everything? How are you and Romano?"

"Oh, Romano… That is why I'm calling." The happiness from Antonio's voice vanished, replaced by something which sounded like sorrow.

"You may not know it, but he has been missing for a month. No calls, no letters. Do you remember how him and Germany went to a private meeting with Russia?"

Francis scratched at the stubble on his chin.

"I do remember something like that."

"Gilbert thinks that Russia has captured them. He has done some snooping around, and he knows where Russia is keeping them. He plans on showing Russia the true Prussian strength."

"But there is no way he can accomplish this himself."

"Which is where you and I come in."

Francis felt a smile stretch across his face.

"It would be like old times, non?"

"Si. The bad friends trio unite again. Fusosososo~"

"But how did our friend manage to get such information? One can not just simply wander about in Russia and trip over a secret message."  
_  
_But considering that it was Gilbert, it was highly possible.

"He tells me we will find out when we get there."

"And when and where would 'there' be?"

"We will meet at Germany's house tonight, and then the next morning for Russia."

"This is so soon."

Antonio's voice was but a whisper. "He will not say it outright, but he knows something that we don't. There are terrible things happening, and it would be better to save Germany and Romano sooner than later."

"I understand. Merde, this will be quite a difficult situation to handle."

"Does this mean I will see you tonight?"

"Oui. I shall start making preparations. "

"Gracias, Francis. This means a lot to Gilbert and I. We just want to see Romano and Germany come back home safely."

"It is no problem, mon cher. I must go now. I have a flight to book. Au revoir."

"Adios."

Francis turned off his phone and hastily got out of bed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Alfred had been listening in on Arthur and Francis' entire conversation. Maybe he was America. It would explain why he wasn't as reserved most Canadians, and didn't have that extreme love of pancakes and maple syrup. But then his mind raced back to that room, where it was just him and someone who looked like him. His brother, probably. The memory was hazy, but he remembered watching his brother heroically walk out the door to face an onslaught of soldiers. That nation had to be America. The nation who walked out was strong and courageous. Alfred could only remember that he had stayed behind, which is what cowards do.

Alfred's reverie was interrupted when someone coughed behind him. He turned around and his eyes met with Arthur's.

"I suppose you heard all of that?"

Alfred looked at his hand and found that he was still clutching on to the phone.

"Umm.. Yeah."

"Come here."

Before Alfred had knew it, Arthur had held him in a tight embrace, which ended as quick as it came.

"Don't worry lad. Whether you are Canada or America, you still would have been one of my ex colonies."

Alfred laughed.

"So I guess that means I still must have eaten some of your shitty cooking. What a sad childhood I must have had."

"You Git! You just have no tastes!"

"And you're just an old man!"

Alfred playfully tackled Arthur to the ground. He lay on top of Arthur for a while, there faces so close. Alfred could just feel Arthur's heated breath, the rise and fall of his chest from underneath him. Arthur had closed his eyes, and Alfred found himself closing the already small distance between them. But Arthur's eyes had suddenly opened wide, with the realization that Alfred was Canada. Alfred reached out with his hand, desperately wanting to caress Arthur's face, to trace his lips with his fingers. Instead, he squeezed Arthur's nose.

"honk".

"…. Get off me."

Alfred quickly leapt up and held out his hand, hoping the older nation would take it. Instead, Arthur brushed it off.

"I'm not so old that I need your help, Matthew."

Alfred sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. He may not be America, but he definitely wanted to be him. There were times when Arthur would call out to Alfred. Alfred would just get mad, and would constantly be correcting him, telling him he was Canada. And that's what would hold Arthur back. The fact that Alfred wasn't America. He felt a sudden ache in his chest, and his hand flew to his heart. Arthur noticed this.

"Matthew? Is there anything wrong?"

Alfred laughed. There was such irony in that question.

"No, nothing at all."

"Alright then. I'll be in the other room. Call me if you need me."

Alfred watched Arthur's back, as became further and further away from him. Alfred yearned for Arthur. Alfred wanted to stand in front of Arthur, and have him accept him for who he was. He wanted him to see him as Canada, and look at him the same way he would look at America. Whenever Alfred saw Arthur, he just wanted to reach out and grab him close, and tell him everything would be alright. Alfred felt his stomach churn. He tried to grasp a memory, something, anything, that would tell him what was real. He knew there was something there. He felt it. He felt the sadness, the loneliness, the separation. He felt the joy, the love, and the admiration. All for Arthur. And yet he didn't know why those feelings were there. Arthur wanted him to be America, and Alfred wanted to be America. So what was stopping them?

Alfred's thoughts were interrupted when he felt a small tugging at his leg. He looked down and saw his polar bear, kuma what what, tugging at his leg.

"Who are you?" it asked.

"I've told you like a million times already. I'm Canada."

The polar bear shook its head.

"No. You're America."

_Damnit_. Alfred thought. _Even my own pet wants me to be America._

* * *

Tino felt a heavy weight on his leg. He opened his eyes and found that the weight belonged to Berwald, who had fallen asleep on him. He looked at his surroundings. He was in a bed in a private hospital room. He then noticed that it wasn't just Berwald in the room. Emil was sleeping on a leather couch, and Matthias was sleeping on the ground in front of it. The only one who was awake was Lukas. Lukas noticed that Tino was awake, and nodded. He gently tapped Emil on the shoulder, and then proceeded to kick Matthias in the crotch. Matthias's scream woke Berwald up. There was a lot of shouting, and scuffling, until they all realized Tino was awake. The look that Berwald gave the others showed that he wanted some time alone with Tino. The other Nordics politely complied, and walked out of the room and waited outside. Once they were gone, Berwald turned back to Tino.

"M' wife, what 'appened?"

Tino spoke, but his voice felt raspy and his breath was short.

"We were Russia's test subjects."

Tino thought back to the times he was strapped to a table, screaming. How every time he closed his eyes, when he woke up, he felt lost and confused, and could barely remember anything but his name. He remembered all the times Germany had pleaded to Russia, wanting to take Romano's place.

"What was 'e testin'?"

Tino felt his consciousness fading. He was only able to softly mumble the words before he slipped back to sleep.

Matthias fidgeted. He wanted to know what happened to Tino. There were so many unexplained things, like how his wounds were healing so slowly. He thought back to how they found Tino strapped to a table, pale and bloody. He remembered all the soldiers rushing about. Thank god he had asked Matthew to come help them out. If he and America didn't come -

"Hey Lukas"

Matthias asked. He suddenly remembered something important.

Lukas looked at Matthias, stoic expression on his face.

"Yes?"

"You know that memory magic thing you pulled on America? The one with the amnesia thing? How long does it last?"

Lukas held up a finger.

"One month."

Matthias gritted his teeth. America and Russia had quite the history between them. But Matthias thought they had settled that. Why it was that Russia would want America? He remembered that during the time they infiltrated the lab, Matthew had found a brown package. He and Matthias quickly skimmed through it, and saw something labelled 'Project Amerika'. America was in horrible condition; the soldiers had realized that shooting at the nations would not have a severe dramatic effect, so they shot at their legs. America had charged forward, but by the time they had realized the soldier's new ideas, he was already shot several times in the leg. They still stuck to the original plan, where Matthew, America, and himself would be the decoys, and everyone else would focus on getting Tino out of there. But Matthew wanted Lukas to temporarily remove America's memory. He hit America in the head, and told them that he would pretend to be America, so that if they got caught, Russia would only get Canada, and not America. The plan was going well, until Belarus appeared. Matthias held her off, so that Matthew would be able to carry the unconscious America to safety. Matthias had just barely managed to escape and get outside, which is when a certain albino carrying a certain Canadian fell on top of him.

Matthew and America had planned on leaving with England. Matthias could only assume that America got out safely. Matthew wouldn't just leave his brother there.

Matthias jumped as Berwald slammed the door open.

"We 'ave a problem."

"What is it?" Matthias asked.

"Russia 'as found a way t' temporarily turn nations int' 'umans."

The other three nations gasped. If Russia was able to temporarily turn nations into humans, what would happen?

Then it was Lukas' turn to speak.

"That explains the constant earthquakes in Europe."

"You mean the ones in…."

Berwald nodded.

"Finland, Germany, and South Italy."

"So does that mean that… When a nation is hurt in human form, the actual country suffers?" asked Emil.

Lukas held his stoic expression, but Matthias's face darkened with a sudden realization.

"America is a major nation. If Russia was to capture him and turn him into a human and kill him…."

Matthias turned towards Lukas. A silent understanding passed between them. Lukas pulled out his cellphone.

"I'll call England right away."

* * *

**I don't mean to be rude but most fanfics are all "I AM A NATION I HAVE DISAPEARED I AM DEAD BUT I AM NOW HUMAN." don't get me wrong, those fanfics** **are so cute and I always cry and I always shout "WHY CANT YOU JUST LOVE HIM AND REMEMBER HIM ALSKFJLAKSJF". but I think that nations can be humans in other ways too.**

hi reviews are appreciated.

Preview for next chapter:

_Spain, Prussia, France, and Canada infiltrate another one of Russia's secret bases. But what they discover is that Russia doesn't just want to take down America._

**Anyone wanna guess what else Russia wants? And it's not world domination.**


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